911
by LyzabethSay
Summary: The thoughts, events and emotions of 9/11 – Mac Taylor READ AUTHORS NOTE


**9/11**

**Summery: **The thoughts, events and emotions of 9/11 – Mac Taylor (READ AUTHORS NOTE)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI NY

**A/N: **This isn't actually directly a CSI NY fic… It was something **inspired **by Mac and Claire, who are the two unnamed husband and wife in this fic. If you can read it in Mac's voice great because that's who the character is based on but I warn it's AUish since Mac and Claire had a daughter called Kimmi. I probably wont keep this up too long since well, I don't feel it is directly CSI NY but I would like to get comments on what you think since it's an entry for a competition type thing at school. The theme was Heroes if that helps any way at all.

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He stood there, mug in hand, staring out into the garden, deep in thought. The tall oak tree was still growing tall in the southern corner and the rose bush was blooming bright with bulbs to the east. The sky was a harmonious blue while clouds drifted carelessly along with the soothing winds. The sun was reaching its peek in the northern sky as out-stretched shadows of houses and trees covered the lawn. Nothing had changed in his neighborhood, nothing was out of place. Even Kimmi's old play-set, with its faded colours now covered in green tangled vines, sat in the same place it was eight yeas ago. Eight years since the world stood still and his whole life changed.

He remembered, to the day, the chaos and havoc that provoked New York on the morning of the attack - a mass of disorganized confusion that ran through the streets of Lower Manhattan as the first plane hit the North Tower at 8:46am. There was panic and commotion as civilians ran for their lives along the streets trying to dodge out of harms way from the burning Twin Towers. Fear and anguish tormented each person as they watched blazing red flames rise towards the sky and debris and dust scattered itself along the pavement like black snow. The wave of terror traveled through New York as tourists and residents tried to escape across the Brooklyn Bridge. And before anyone could comprehend what was happening, when no one thought it could get worse, the second plane at 9.03am.

He was at the courthouse at the time the message came through. Mobiles and phones were going off everywhere and people were being flooded with call of the planes hitting into the World Trade Center. From the moment he heard the news everything around him stopped. His whole life flashed in front of eyes. Every moment leading up to that point made a mark on his memory. An inner fear over took him as he thought of his wife. The sound of her soothing laugh and her cheerful smile, the smell of her soft brown hair and smooth porcelain skin were slowly fading into distant memories as the moments ticked by. She worked in the World Trade Center and he'd dropped her off at the front lobby of the North Tower that morning. The mere image of her not coming home that evening, of leaving him and Kimmi alone in the world, over took all sense of rational thought and judgment and against his will, he was degraded to a mass of tears and despair in front of his colleagues. Even without her death being confirmed he knew, inside, she'd left him when he began to feel a part of him slowly slip away leaving an empty impression of her next to his heart.

Arriving at the site of the World Trade Center the whole situation was too much to comprehend. Not just the size of the black clouds of smoke that covered the sky but the sheer number of NYPD officers and FDNY Fire Fighters that gathered at the scene was staggering. A chaotic mass of soot-covered rescues operatives ran everywhere. Injured civilians were pulled away to be tended to while the deceased were laid to rest. Police officers lined the parameter stopping civilians getting closer to the wreckage. While most people were running away from the inferno of disaster relatives, colleagues, friends and family urged to reach closer to help begin the continuous, on-going search for survivors.

While he stood there, paralyses by the scale of the event, there was moment of silence that filled the air, muffling the sound of screams and sirens that echoed through the valley of buildings, while he watch as WTC2 began toppling to the ground after 56 minutes of burning. For a split second there was nothing, no sound, no action, no motivation to move, only determination to stay and watch what would happen next and had it not been for the real hero, the officer in blue, he would have found himself swept of his feet by the force of wind from the crashing building.

After that he was removed from the site and forced to evacuate back to his suburban home in Queens, he waited to break the news to his daughter. Kimmi, the 10 year old little sprite, whose enthusiasm and joyfulness got both him and his wife through their long tiresome day of work in the city. He didn't know how to tell her or even whether telling her was the right thing to do. At such a young age, would she understand, would she accept the fact that mummy wasn't coming home - ever again?

'Kimmi,' he said, speaking a in a low, serious tone, he wasn't going to mess around; there was no way of getting past this. 'Something happened today-'

'I know, daddy,' she said. Her voice was ringing in his ears, not just with the fact that she sounded like her mother, with maturity and responsibility, but that she reached out her hand and rested on her father's shoulder explaining that 'everything was going to be alright, daddy'.

For the next 8 years, he watched as his daughter grew with maturity rather than age. She blossomed into a caring, warmhearted adult who spent more time looking after her father than going out with her friends. She rapidly grew to take on responsibilities left by her mother while he spent years pining over his wife's death, daring not to take of the thin, golden ring that reminded him of the blossoming day in May when they placed their vows upon each other.

Subconsciously, without thinking, he found himself pulled back to the reality of his home when he began fondling with the ring on his finger. Giving out a deep sigh he looked back out at the glorious, bright sunny day, where the birds were chirping and the frogs were singing, just to think how unfair and unjust the world was, how powerless he was to do anything, to help all those innocent lives that were lost, for letting his wife become one of the 24 missing victims of the attacks.

'Dad?' he turned to his daughter, the tall, mature, head strong girl who had stood by his side all these years. She placed a hand on his shoulder, comfortingly, 'you alright?'

'Yeah… I'm just thinking.'

'Thinking of mum?'

He nodded. He always hated to admit it, admit the pain and distraught that came with remembering but he couldn't deny it happening. He couldn't deny that he wished it all went differently.

'They tried their best, honey.'

'Who?'

'The people with enough determination and strength to hunt for days on end trying to find survivors… The 420 firefighter and police officers who lost their lives looking for your mother - they did it because they believed in justice and the safety of others. They did it because they were the real heroes - the ones who stood up when the rest of us fell down. They're the real heroes.'

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading, if you got this far and do tell me what you thought of it – Criticism is much wanted since I would like to do one last edit of it before I hand it in, so comment fast because it wont be up for long.


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